


> Axel: Don't Kill The New Kid

by colorfulCheshire



Category: Homestuck, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, Homestuck-verse, Mentions of Black Axel/SaÏx, Mentions of Pale Lea/Isa, Troll AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 18:17:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1194819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorfulCheshire/pseuds/colorfulCheshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Axel's been assigned to babysit the newest troll in the Organization, not that he can understand why this deadweight wasn't culled on sight, but the umber-blooded Nobody isn't about to disobey direct orders from their Superior over some pint-sized zombie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	> Axel: Don't Kill The New Kid

You don’t hate him, no. To hate him, especially in this zombie-like state, would imply that your own skills fall short of even the Dusks, and you’d rather not be brought before your Superior to prove your worth to the upper-ranks.  Even though you could take on his right-hand troll and likely come out on top, the fuchsia-blood’s tests were never so simple.

So no, hate is far too strong a word for the growing annoyance you feel as you lead the dead-eyed troll towards his assigned respite-block. Maybe it’s your superiors who you hate, the ones who assigned you to the asinine chore in the first place.  You wonder if SaÏx had vouched for you, volunteering your precious time in an attempt to one-up you after you had won a particularly tense argument the week before.  His black solicitations weren’t unnoticed to you, and even if you reciprocated a bit, you forced yourself to ignore the rage that bubbled inside you every time of you thought of his scar-fucked face.  Black was such a bitter taste when there were still such sweet pale memories beneath the scars and black coats.

You glance down beside you at the newest member as he keeps up with almost-mechanical steps.  You frown to yourself, lips tugging uncomfortably over your fangs.  What’s up with this kid anyways? He looks to be just barely seven sweeps old and he’s not even aware of a single damned thing around him. Fuck, a soper-drunk Dusk was more useful than this deadweight.

You stop abruptly in front of his door and are a bit surprised when he doesn’t bump into you. At least even in his zombie-like trance, his reflexes still work.  Still, that doesn’t explain why the Organization wants this useless lump of flesh around; he is even less threatening than Demyx with his short stature and those useless horns that curve backwards and cross over his head, rendering them basically useless.  He’s going to be properly introduced tomorrow, so Superior and Number VII had told you nothing other than his name, number, and that they assigned you to watch over him until he could get along properly in the Organization.

“Number XIII,” you say once you realize he’s not entering his block.  He doesn’t move.

“Roxas.”  Nope, still nothing from this pan-addled idiot.

“Hey kid, fucking look at me when I’m talking to you.”  You hadn’t meant to growl at him, granted, you guess that’s what it means when they call it a reflex, but it works and he looks up at you automatically.

Vibrant red is creeping into the edges around wriggler gray.

You jump back defensively, your back hitting the wall and your chakrams at ready in your strife-deck. 

 _He’s a mutant._ Why the _fuck_ is the Organization keeping him around?!  Why wasn’t he turned to Dusk the moment he was discovered?  _What is he to the Organization?_

He looks at you with confusion, the first actual expression you’ve seen him make in your one hour of knowing him, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself and quiet the low growl rumbling in your chest.  You stand up straight, dropping a hand to your side as the other comes up to rub at the back of your neck.

“Uh sorry or whatever, but this is your respite-block. Go ahead and get some rest since they’ll be coming to get you in the evening.  If you need anything, I’m right down the hall, Number VIII, but I advise you _not_ to need anything if you don’t want to risk that fluffy tuft of yours catching on fire.”

You realize that was a bit harsh, even for you, but you’re still riled up and ready to claw into something after that adrenaline kick. Your instincts are telling you to tear into the mutant and leave him for dead, but you have to suppress that urge lest your Superior experiments ways of punishment far more creative than death.

The mutant, no, Number XIII blinks at you slowly a couple of times before opening the door behind him, and slipping into his block without turning his back.  At least his instincts are working alongside his reflexes, but that won’t be enough to get him by in this line of work.

As you return to your own block, you feel the familiar pang of hollowness inside and you’re remembering your early days, standing beside not-Isa and receiving your new names and numbers.  You don’t know why you’re thinking of this, and as you slide into the cool embrace of your recooperacoon, you realize you feel sorry for them – Number XIII and the young VII and VIII.

**Author's Note:**

> Probably going to be a part of a series for this universe so if you would like to make a request, feel free to send me a message either here or my tumblr (please do not leave requests in the comments). Er, until I get a second one written, this will be stand-alone, but quick note on requests: I'll take requests for character-interaction, but as all the stories are linked, I do not take relationship/quadrant requests. Thank you. uwu


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